Tempered in Fire
by Desnai
Summary: Courtesy of kinkmeme prompt, F!Courier and Boone are captured and abused by the Legion, then I just ran with it.  Includes Bonus!Benny .  Rated M for language, violence and sexual content. May be disturbing to some readers.
1. Tempered in Fire

_Why oh why do I do this to Boone? No matter what I write he never gets his gal. Sign me up for a one-way trip to hell… Contents courtesy of a Fallout kinkmeme prompt (minor revisions from the posted version)._

_**WARNING: This story contains disturbing language, violence and sexual content. Not for the squeamish!**_

_As always thoughts/comments/reviews welcome. Characters, Locations, etc. are the property of Bethesda/Zenimax and respective owners._

* * *

"Not exactly the vacation I had imagined. These have got to be the worst cabana boys ever, huh Boone?" Unable to resist, the Courier threw an exaggerated wink at her companion.

The blow wasn't unexpected, but was surprising in strength. As she tasted the bloom of copper in her mouth, she had to reflect on the wisdom of taunting her captors. _Fucking idiot!_

Still, it kept them off of Boone. Their glee at capturing him was palpable. Most Legionaries were unaware of his presence until the felt the sting of a .308 extinguishing their miserable existence. Of her ragtag group of misfits, he was the most hated. His blood soaked form was testament to this fact.

She allowed herself a moment of relief when she saw Boone stir a little, and tried to quell the nervous worry in her heart. Consciousness was good – as long as the Legion fucks didn't notice. She tested the ropes at her back again; almost through. She gave silent thanks that the Legion wasn't into creature comforts. It had taken her a bit to find a rock within reach that had a edge rough enough to wear through the ropes, but her patience was paying off. _Now to get one of these mouth breathers close enough._

"Now I know you Legion fellas aren't really into the beauty of a female form, but you can't at least give me the comfort of a back rub? Sure Boone's got that whole tall dark and handsome thing going, but _come on!_ I'm getting a little lonely over here."

Dodging a kick would normally be a walk in the park, but the tent pole she was tethered to seemed determined to foul things up for her. The Courier wished she could double-over, not that that would alleviate the sharp pain. It would be nice to have options though. _Stupid fucking tent pole!_

"Never liked that rib any way," she coughed. "There's something to be said for a little flexibility." She gave her assailant a saucy smirk, and was pleasantly surprised that she was able to suppress the grimace of pain.

"You really are a stupid bitch, aren't you?" Mr. Obscenely Large Boots stepped closer; pulling out his nicked machete in what he probably thought was a menacing gesture. _Almost._

"You really know your bitches, I'll give you that. Tell me, was it the refusal of your fellow soldiers that drove you to the comforts of the canine variety? Or can you just not resist a bitch in heat?" The smirk came more easily this time.

With an unintelligible growl, the Legion Recruit grabbed a fistful of her hair and pressed the machete to her neck. Before he could utter whatever pitiful comeback he could barely come up with, the Courier took her shot.

Snapping the ropes took her more strength than she had hoped for, and thankfully didn't end up dislocating her shoulder. Mr. Kicks wasn't expecting any resistance, so turning the machete in his grasp was easy. The Courier launched herself up at him, driving the machete into his stomach as she did so.

As he toppled to the ground, gurgling profanity with her atop him, the Courier fought to keep herself from doubling over in pain. _Like to see the fucker kick me now._

She barely had time to stand, pulling the machete free as she did so, before the remaining two Legionaries overcame their shock and launched into action. She parried one clumsy strike as the other landed a glancing blow on her shoulder. Her light leather armor was built to leave movement unhindered, and not for blocking machete blows. She ignored the fire in her shoulder, thankful that nothing important had been severed.

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her going now. Her rib and shoulder barely registered as she danced around the two looking for an opening while trying to keep one in the way of the other. Thankfully the brutes weren't the thinking types, and the closest launched an overhand swing. The Courier rolled forward under the strike, bringing up her machete into his stomach as she did so. Unfortunately, the machete was a sorry affair in the first place, and chose this moment to bind in the Legionaries' armor.

She shoved the poor fool into his comrade behind him. The soldier dodged the body clumsily, right into her waiting boot knife. The man had no chance to respond as she slit his throat.

The adrenaline high was wearing out as her brain flew through priorities. She sliced through Boone's bonds and quickly located their packs. He was conscious, but wasn't very responsive. The Courier ignored her own pain as she grabbed the first aid pack. She quickly administered a Med-X and a couple of stimpacks to her prone companion.

"Boone, honey, come on!" She cradled his head in her lap waiting for the meds to kick in. "We don't have a lot of time. We need to-" Her head exploded in a nova of pain as a ballistic fist took her across the jaw.

"Restrain him." Everything sounded distant against the whine in her ears. "And get these bodies out of here."

"So, we meet again. I'm disappointed you didn't make the right choice when we offered it to you. I don't know why I ever expected more from a woman." She felt a hand grip her hair and yank her upright.

Her vision swam, and she couldn't control her limbs. Groggily, she realized the whine she heard in her ears was coming from her. If her jaw wasn't broken it might have even been a scream. Slowly her brain started piecing together what her eyes were reporting.

Lucius. Panic raced through her. What was he doing out of the Fort? For the first time in her life, the Courier felt complete helplessness overwhelm her. Legion Recruits, Veterans, and hell even a few Centurions didn't stand a chance against her in the end… but Lucius… No doubt there were even a few Praetorians around as well. Lady luck had fully deserted her.

She belatedly registered frantic grunts emanating from Boone. She could barely make out his form in her watery vision. They had tied him up again, and thrown in a gag to boot. _Why did I have to drag him in to this?_ It hurt almost more than she could bear. Hell, she had died once already, this was nothing new. But Boone… he had just gotten his life back after Bitter Springs. She had grown closer to him in the weeks since than she had ever hoped. Tears stung her eyes as she thought of their first passionate kiss after starting this jaunt in the first place. His life meant more to her than her own, and now she had ruined it.

"You have caused us quite some trouble." Her eyes were drawn back to her captors face as he interrupted her self pity. "I wanted to see that we had you in hand personally. Caesar will be pleased." Lucius made the statement as dispassionately as he would Caesar's laundry.

The Courier coughed out what would have been a curse, but the pain made her stop before more than a gurgle of blood came out.

"Tongue deserted you? As befits a profligate woman." The fist in her hair tightened, and Lucius flung her back down to the ground. The pain of her jaw striking the ground nearly sent her unconscious. She could only grunt in response.

"My men are quite eager to put you in your place, as you can imagine." Lucius picked up her discarded boot knife and stood tapping thoughtfully it against the palm of his hands. "I trust you have no more surprises left in store for us?"

She tried to kick at him when he started using the knife to strip her of her leathers. Her head was still swimming and her aim was off. Effortlessly, Lucius caught her foot in his grip and twisted. The pain in her knee as it was wrenched around was nothing to the explosion of pain in her ankle as the bones were broken. It _almost_ made her forget the pain in her jaw, that was until she opened her mouth to scream.

Lucius and continued stripping her, not deigning to acknowledge her futile resistance. The Courier's vision was filled with the sight of a pool of blood stretching like an impassable sea between herself and Boone. As she watched Boone struggle against his restraints, she wondered distractedly how much of it was hers, and how much belonged to the Legionaries she killed. Better to think of that than see the man she was almost sure she loved helplessly watch her torture.

"On your knees." The Courier's head swam as she struggled to comply. It was no use. She had no strength left, and every time she tried to lift herself up the pain left her shaking with nausea. _Fucker threw me to the ground, now he wants me upright?_ She wished her jaw was intact so she could educate Lucius on the absurdity of his request. Upon further reflection, she had to admit to herself that maybe it was a good thing.

Her thoughts were broken off as she was forcibly lifted by her arm. She fought to remain upright. Every time she began to slouch, the pain of her broken rib jolted her.

"A slave needs to learn to obey the first time." Taking the arm, he wrenched it behind her. She could only grunt as he pulled it out of socket. The pain was nothing like that in her jaw. Lucius pulled her head close to his. She could feel his breath against her ear. "Be thankful that is not what we have planned for you."

_Death then, or maybe crucifixion. Probably doesn't want to give me any more opportunities to cull his ranks._ Small comfort. She tried to ignore the futile struggles of Boone a few feet away.

Lucius stood swiftly and paced around her. He appeared to be surveying his handiwork, and had pulled his cock free of his armor, stroking as he paced. _Sick fuck._ The Courier glared him as menacingly as she could manage. Being naked and wounded made it hard, but she thought maybe she was pulling it off.

Maybe she had. Lucius' face remained impassive as he backhanded her on the jaw he had previously broken. Her face was aflame with pain that didn't fade as she landed on the dislocated shoulder. She whimpered in pain, wishing her brain would do her the courtesy of sending her unconscious.

As she lay writhing in pain, she heard Boone's grunts punctuated by the familiar sound of boots against flesh. She groaned, and tried to sit upright, knowing they would turn attention back to her. She was rewarded with her face being planted against the ground as Lucius lifted her ass up onto bent knees.

A second later, she was thankful for the pain of her broken bones to focus on as Lucius thrust himself into her. The pain as he took her in the ass seemed such a small thing in comparison. The lack of lubrication caused tearing that she registered in a dazed state. She knew she was bleeding, which absurdly made it easier on the parts that weren't torn.

The Courier closed her eyes tight against the tears welling, hoping against hope that Boone couldn't see. She was a big girl, she knew what denigrates did to captives. That Boone was here, and worse was a helpless witness stung more than anything Lucius or his thugs could do to her.

It was over fairly quickly. With a grunt, Lucius grabbed her hips painfully and gave a last shuddering thrust into her. Thankfully, he wasn't much into pillow talk. Lucius stood quickly, wiping himself off on her discarded leathers.

"Do what you will with the courier. See to it that she dies a fitting death." Lead settled in the Courier's belly. She had been hoping for a quick crucifixion. _Lounging around on a cross sounds pretty good right about now._

Lucius turned to her. "Ave. We will not meet again." With that Lucius strode from the tent, and the Courier was suddenly aware of the presence of the five grinning Legionaries left in the tent.

The Courier noted that she was feeling lightheaded. _Must be blood loss._ The thought that five measly Legionaries would cause her too feel faint was absurd. A cave full of deathclaws couldn't do it, so there was no way in hell she would give them the satisfaction of thinking they made her quake in her boots. Lucius was another thing, but he was gone now. He had gotten off on his control over her, the deliberate way in which he was able to break her body. These fellas had none of his... _Class is definitely not the word I'm looking for. _

Boone apparently had enough of the passive show and tell, and was determined to get acquainted with the boots and blades of the Legion grunts. _Fuck. This is like a fucked up popularity contest. _She wished for a moment that she hadn't administered the Med-X and stimpacks. At least then, he would still be out of it.

One of the fucks was taking the bait, a Veteran by the look of it. He started pulling his machete as he took the first steps towards Boone. The Courier sighed inwardly. _This is going to hurt._

She took two deep painful breaths, trying to ignore her rib's protests, as she focused. It was important not to pass out, not if she wanted to keep Boone relatively unscathed.

It came out haltingly at first, as all the Legion brutes turned to her trying to figure out what the hell was going on. After a few moments, it was clear that the Courier was laughing. Not prettily, but a deep-throated laughter that occasionally lapsed into blood-filled coughing fits.

_This has got to be the hardest thing I've ever done. _At least it was having the desired effect, she had the attention of all five again. Each wore expressions with varying degrees of rage and hatred. One recruit on the end almost looked horrified. That made the laughter come a little easier.

_Time to turn this up a notch. _Steeling herself for what she knew was going to come, the Courier gave her ass a suggestive shake, ignoring the alarm bells her body was giving off.

She almost couldn't keep up with the frenzy of action she had set off. She could only focus on keeping herself breathing as they laid into her with fists and boots. They definitely weren't the most creative bunch. A couple times she was sure she kissed unconsciousness, but was always dragged back.

The largest guy finally shoved the rest aside and flopped her on her back. Her head was spinning as she tried to figure out what was going on.

"Is this what you wanted, you profligate whore?" He hissed the words out as he lifted her hips from the ground. She was almost surprised when she felt him slide into her womanhood. _ Probably didn't want to invite comparison to Lucius._ The thought drifted up from out of nowhere and almost made her snort. Still, it was better than being beaten, unless the beating was severe enough to end her quickly. She tried to get her brain back up to speed. Clarity was the secret to survival.

She almost couldn't feel the man sliding in and out of her. Her body was a cacophony of complaints. She needed to find some way to end this, to make them lose their heads. She needed to take control of the situation. Boone could hate her later.

Despite the complaints of her body, she made herself hitch her hips up against him. She let out a low moan, and tried to keep pain out of it as much as possible. She briefly thought about running her tongue across her upper lip, but her mangled face would make that an exercise in futility. _Okay, this is the hardest thing I've ever done._

"Fucking whore is practically begging for it." One of the oh-so-bright grunts jeered.

The Legion soldier fucking her let out a grunt of surprise. _Not so fun now, huh asshole? _She closed her eyes and concentrated on controlling his movements inside her. She slowed her breathing and tried to make her moans as convincing as possible. After a few moments of slow deliberate strokes, she began lifting her hips against him harder and faster. She tried to ignore the leaded feeling of her limbs and the growing nausea in her stomach. This was the only way she had to fight back now. Any way to rob them of their pleasure was worth it.

The Courier almost let out a sigh of relief when the Legionary pulled out of her with an angry growl. Instead, she made herself let out a disappointed moan.

"Fucking bitch doesn't deserve anything but a death at the hands of the Legion!" His angry pronouncement was accompanied by cheers from the others. _Big words coming from the man who couldn't keep it up._ She wasn't surprised the others were going along with it. She had heard stories of treatment of soldiers who didn't obey.

She glanced over at Boone. His mouth was a rictus of anger, but it was nothing compared to his eyes. They were the eyes of a man who had nothing to lose. He'd lost it all already; she was just salt in the wound. She wished she could say something, wished her jaw was whole enough to allow her to form more than an inarticulate groan. Then again, maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. She was never good at goodbyes.

Her eyes were drawn back to Mr. Flaccid as he pulled his machete with a ring that resounded in the too-silent tent. She hated him, she hated all of them. They were taking her life, but they had already stole something from her that was more important than that. She struggled against her leaden limbs, fighting to gain the strength for at least one more gesture of defiance. The Courier let out a low, feral growl that didn't do her feelings any justice.

She didn't even see the blast of plasma that took him down. He stumbled backward silently, and the sound of ED-E's battle music washed through the tent. It was over too quickly in her mind. The five legionaries stood no chance against the assaulting force. Gunshots rang out, accompanied by the hiss of plasma that lit up the faces of Arcade, Cass and Raul as they took down the bastards in a way that only she would think of as beautiful. In the nights to come, she would replay each of their deaths over and over in her mind. Later, they told her that she had passed out before they reached her side.

Their deaths still rang in her head when she woke the smell of Abraxo and Med-X, which made her grimace. Her jaw lit up in protest, but she could tell by the dulled pain that it was well on it's way towards healing. She gingerly tested the rest of her limbs, grateful that they were all there to register their protests.

The empty, dimly lit suite suited her mood just fine, and she was almost angry when Arcade pushed his head in through a crack in the door.

"So our intrepid Hero comes to." She could tell by his forced cheerfulness that there was unpleasantness coming. Normally they would ping-pong increasingly absurd quips between them, but she just couldn't summon the will to do it.

"Boone?" She told herself the pain she felt as she said the name came from her mending jaw. _Might as well get right to it. _She knew what was coming, and the uncomfortable way Arcade shifted in place confirmed it.

"He uhh... He left you this letter." Arcade stepped forward and handed her the letter. "He said you would understand."

She did, and didn't blame him. She looked at the letter in her hand impassively. She had spotted it in his armor before, and she knew all NCR carried one for friends and family in the event of their death.

"Thanks." She looked up at Arcade, who looked acutely uncomfortable. "I think I need a little more rest."

Arcade nodded, "You know where I am if you need me, or if your bandages need changing." He left the room with a quickness that would have amused her if her mind wasn't already racing.

Boone had the right idea. The NCR, House, Yes-Man, they all wanted to use her to solve their problems. She'd played the hero to their whims before, but now the Legion had made it personal. Let them squabble about the Mojave and New Vegas. All she wanted – no, all she needed – now was to bring down Caesar and his curs. They were all going to pay.

With a start, she realized that she had crumpled Boone's letter in her fist. She carefully straightened it and gingerly placed it on her beside table unopened.

She glanced at the 10mm on the table next to it, and grinned maniacally. Her brain was working with her for a change. Guns were never the answer. First stop was Dr. Usanagi for all the implants her body could handle, then some time in intensive training. The Legion liked to fight up close and personal, well she would give them up close and personal. _And blood is going to run._


	2. Paying it Forward

The Courier ran a finger slowly against the jagged scar that nearly spanned the entire right side of her jaw. A gift from the Legion, and one asshole with a Ballistic Fist particularly. It still ached, as did a number parts of her body, phantom pains that never went away no matter how many chems she took.

She was tired; four weeks of frantic training, all the while adapting to a small fortune in implants that she just couldn't get used to. Never mind the heartbreak that came with parting with treasured weapons in order to afford the cursed implants in the first place. Oh how she wanted to slit the throat of the stupid Gun Runner asshole at the 188. The man had no idea what a lucky little shit he was.

She cast a glance back over her shoulder. Cottonwood Cove was dwindling in the distance, and it wouldn't be long until the small barge arrived at Fortification Hill. The Courier allowed herself a small smile. Veronica no doubt thought she was a stealthy little minx. She was probably frantically rallying the rest of her companions to come to the Courier's rescue. _Jokes on them. I took the only barge._ Serves them right for putting her on suicide watch. Maybe she was acting a little erratically, but it was nothing a dose or three of Mentats couldn't smooth out... most of the time.

She had thought about taking Lily, but the last thing she needed was another Boone on her conscious. Her companions would help her in other ways. A distraction might keep the Legion out of her hair long enough to accomplish her mission. _That's all that matters,_ she tried to ignore the pang of guilt at the thought of using them in this fashion.

The Courier activated her stealth boy just as the Legion stronghold appeared on the horizon. The Legion despised technology, she hoped this fact would prevent them from suspecting a cloaked infiltration. If she was really lucky, they'd be curious and take the barge back to Cottonwood Cove where hopefully her companions would be causing mischief. She knew lady luck was a fickle bitch, so she didn't try to delude herself.

The Courier knew that if she moved, the telltale shimmer would give her away if she moved where the Legionaries would notice. It was a close thing, but the two guarding the entrance to the fort weren't the brightest. _Guess all you need to join the Legion is a penchant for big knives, a dick, and the legs to pull off a skirt_. Bonus.

As she crept up towards the top of the hill, she checked the draw of her favorite combat knife. 'Chance' was engraved on the hilt with childlike handwriting. She didn't know if it was a statement or a name. Considering she found it in a lonely grave north of Goodsprings, she figured it was the latter. After weeks of fighting - hell, even sleeping with it, it felt as though it were an extension of herself. A regular cowboy, Cass had called her. She hoped it would be enough. Fast and silent was all she needed.

Initially, she planned to go in hot and heavy with a shishkebab and an assload of plasma grenades to take as many of the fucks down as she could. She knew what her companions thought. She wasn't suicidal. Not really. Some sacrifices were worth it; all she needed was to get to Caesar's tent. If she could take down Caesar, Lanius and Lucius – especially Lucius – well anything else was icing on the cake. Three stealth boys, her favorite cocktail of chems and a couple of stimpacks were all she needed. She felt for the telltale folds of a crinkled envelope secured in her Hēi Guǐ suit. _All I need._

Reaching Caesar's tent was absurdly easy. Maybe Lady Luck was feeling sorry for her after all the shit she went through. There was only one guard at the flap entrance. She ducked to the side of the tent, and as silently as she could manage, activated her second stealth boy and pulled out her chem bag.

Before she could chicken out, she began administering the meds as quickly as she could. _Jack is going to pay if this doesn't work_. Buffout, Mentats, Med-X, Jet, Psycho, hell – she had even managed to score some Rocket and Slasher. As she administered the last, she tried to ignore the tremor in her hands as her blood screamed for action. She could feel the edges of paranoia from the stealth boy dancing closer to play havoc with the chemical cocktail in her bloodstream.

She took three calming breaths, and with focus managed to slip into the tent unnoticed. Caesar lounged on his throne, no surprise there. Two Praetorians at the entrance, and two dogs. She noted Benny tied up to the side and immediately dismissed him. Most importantly, Lucius was seated in the back of the tent, isolated from the rest. Lady luck was kind indeed.

It was almost a miracle that she made it behind Caesar's throne unnoticed. She timed it so the dogs were as far away from her as possible as she slipped past, but she could almost feel their eyes on her nonetheless. Her blood screamed for action, and sneaking around her objective took all the self discipline she could muster. _Quickly now._

Lining up her shot as carefully as she could, the Courier threw a haymaker to Lucius' temple with all the strength she could muster. His head fell listlessly to the table with a satisfying thud. _Be back for you fucker._

Hearing the noise, a Praetorian stepped in the area. His face wore a confused expression that contorted into a grimace as she slit his throat. Her blood sang a familiar song, and the time for stealth was over. As the Praetorian dropped to the floor she pulled his machete from its sheath. With a savage cry, she ran the four spanning steps to the other Praetorian. With a savage slash, she almost managed to sever the man's head from his body.

As the blood fountained in front of her, the Courier felt time slow down around her. _This_ is what she needed. The warm splatters hit her face like a shower she had once had the pleasure of taking. The sound of laughter rang in her ears, and she realized bemusedly that she was the source.

Time regained its place as she landed on the ground. The cyclone of drugs could do little to dull the pain as the Legion cur jerked its head from side to side, tearing into the flesh of her left arm. The pain was there, but she didn't care. Instead, she felt slightly miffed that it had interrupted her moment of catharsis. A quick blow to the head, and the dog was out.

The Courier didn't have time to get upright before the second dog was on her. It seized her right leg as she tried to keep it at bay. She lashed out with her left heel and managed to land a blow to the back of its skull. As she watched it fall the the ground, she absurdly hoped that wasn't a deathblow. She made a mental note to kill Anthony on the way out.

Caesar seemed to get the idea that talk was out of the question, judging by the swing he took as she tried to stand. The Courier tried to dodge the blow, but her unsteady footing made it impossible to evade completely. Caesar landed a solid blow to her shoulder with his displacer glove. The shock as it hit her sent her stumbling against his vacated throne. Dislocated, definitely; broken bones, probably.

"Just got that shoulder fixed, you asshole!" Rage was edging out the pain, if only barely.

She spun out of the way as he launched another attack, lashing out with her knife as she did so. The angle was wrong, so all she landed was a slashing blow to the torso that barely drew blood. She gave a silent thanks to whoever enforced the Legion dress code in the ranks. _Leather, cloth, bare legs. These guys are lunatics._ She resolutely refused to acknowledge that she was wearing armor even less suited for close combat; they were the ones who didn't need to sneak all over the goddamn place.

The Courier didn't have time to play footsie with Old Man Winter, and she knew it. Every exchange was wearing her down, and she couldn't afford another blow from his displacer glove. As soon as the chems wore out, the shakes would set in, and she still had a date with Lucius to prepare for.

Caesar advanced, a snarl twisting his weathered face. She couldn't help but wonder how often Caesar practiced, his movements were telegraphed well in advance. It was an easy thing for her to spin into and around his attack, driving her knife into his chest. Instead of crumpling to the ground as she expected, Caesar stepped forward and with a vicious headbutt, knocked her down.

How long she laid there dazed, she wasn't sure. When she came fully around it was to the vision of Caesar's fist less than a foot from her face. Thankfully, the man had collapsed short of his goal. Her head still spinning, she retrieved her knife from its fallen victim.

The Courier half ran, half staggered to the back room where Lucius was still unconscious. Taking a moment to steady herself, she examined him. It would be so easy to end it all right there. _Where would be the fun in that?_

As expected, he came to with a scream when she made the first sawing cut. He was disoriented, and it was a simple thing for her to turn her attention to the tendons in his other arm. By the time he realized what was going on and tried to struggle back, she had rendered his arms useless.

Lucius staggered up against the table, trying to put distance between himself and the madwoman with the knife. She could barely contain her glee as danced around him, and within a minute had managed to laughingly sever the tendons behind both of his knees.

She grinned as he toppled to the ground next to the table. Lucius' face was twisted with pain and hatred. Oh how she savored the sight. He slung curses around as she straddled him, as though that would help him against what was coming.

"Ahh, Lucius. I have dreamed of this moment." She purred, running her bloodied combat knife against his cheek. "I have to admit, I wasn't planning it like this. You were supposed to end up tied down on Caesar's bed. Things got a little... messy."

"Profligate whore!" Lucius tried to sit up as he cursed, but without leverage she was easily able to keep him in check.

The Courier let out a tinkle of girlish laughter, tapping her knife against his jaw. "You know how to woo a girl, I'll give you that. Ever since that moment in the tent, why I can't think of anything else." Her smile had slowly transitioned to a grimace.

She couldn't help but remember how it felt, lead settling into her belly. _This is supposed to be a sweet moment. My moment._ Instead, her drugs were wearing off. She was tired, her shoulder was making her head swim, and the unbridled passion she felt earlier was tarnished.

"I planned on using and torturing you a thousand different ways. There's no end to the number of ways I could repay your kindness." There was no fear in his eyes, just hate. _Cold to the end._

She sighed, "It all comes down to one thing though." A tremble had started in her hands, the chem withdrawal surely.

"I – am – not – you." Her stare was unfocused as she drew her knife against his throat. The bloom of blood and the gurgles as he tried to curse did nothing for her. She was empty. It was done, and there was nothing.

The Courier winced as she stood. The shakes were starting. She needed a stimpack or three and some fixer. She felt for her chem bag, but apparently it had been dropped during the scuffle. A quick survey of the room revealed it's location next Caesar's throne. Letting out a sigh, she set off on wooden limbs to retrieve it.

Her mind was muddied, so stepping into the main room into the impact of a ballistic fist was the last thing she was expecting to happen. She hadn't counted on the guard posted outside the tent to check in, and the blinding pain as the metal fist broke into ribs stole her breath.

The impact crunched into her chest right below her left breast. Reflexes were the only thing keeping her standing. She retaliated automatically before her brain could process the attack. Her knife sank underneath the man's armpit, angled towards his chest, pulling out again quickly for a second strike.

The second strike that should have ensured his death never came. The pain brought her to her knees, fighting to catch her breath. The Courier let out a painful wracking cough, and something within her chest shifted with a shooting spike. Each gasp she tried to suck in did nothing to help, and it felt like there was something constricting her chest, making each effort an exercise in futility.

She knew enough about medicine to know air was getting into places it shouldn't be able to get to. The tightness in her chest built as she scrambled to locate her stimpacks. Her precious chems that were supposed to win the battle for her scattered under her hands. She couldn't catch her breath, and she knew she was going to pass out soon. Darkness was edging in on her vision and all she could think of was Boone.

* * *

"Crazy broad."

Benny shook his head. He'd been sure his path was taking him to ends-ville; then he saw a face he never thought he'd see again after saying ta-ta in the Presidential Suite at the Tops. The package courier broad sure was a scrapper, he had to give her that. She smoked two guards before he even knew she was there. Then the crazy drop she had on Caesar nearly made him cheer, before he remembered just what shoes he was sitting in. Her disturbing sojourn to the back room gave him the golden opportunity in the form of a dropped machete.

He had been torn when one of the skirted creeps came in to investigate, but self preservation won out any desire to warn the courier. She'd done him a solid by not killing him, but he was sure he hadn't seen all her cards. Seeing her take that fist though, just didn't sit right. Down to brass tacks, and what does she do? Fall on her knife like some crazed tribal intent on cashing out.

Benny stepped up to her fallen body, rolling her over. See one, and you see them all; chapped lips, sunken eyes, the works. The dam was a heavy user, no two ways about it. The sticker in her chest caught his eye. Usually, the only weapon he touched nowadays was Maria, but this looked familiar. He reached down and pulled the knife from the broad's chest, trying to ignore the gurgling hiss of air that followed.

"Chance."

Now this brought back memories; another drugged out tribal, this with the body of a buffed out brahmin and the brains of one to boot. Left that blond mute not far from Goodsprings, come to think of it. Broad must have lifted it from the grave site.

"'Scuse me if I don't shed a tear." Benny tossed the knife down next to her body.

He quickly relieved Caesar's corpse of the chip and began rifling through the Courier's belongings. And damn if that tight suit she had on didn't show off a perfect set of charlies. A crying shame really. A little slip of paper tucked in the folds of her suit. He pulled it out, somewhat surprised to see an unopened envelope. Whatever it was, she'd obviously thought about tossing it a couple of times, judging by the ragged appearance. Benny shrugged and ripped it open.

"_I know you're thinking I'm not dead yet, but I am. My body just doesn't know it yet. Thought I felt the end coming at Bitter Springs. Now I know it's here. You know how I feel about you. I can't look at you without seeing what happened. I'm going to make them pay the only way I know how. Doesn't make up for me leaving, I know, but nothing can make up for what they did to you. Hope you can learn to forgive me. -Craig_"

"Aw, Baby Doll. Breaking hearts all over, I see. You sure were something else."

As he was retrieving her last stealth boy, Benny almost lost his cool. He was getting tired of seeing this broad live through things no ordinary cat could. Sure enough, he saw the faintest movement of her chest again.

"I'm doing you a kindness pussycat. Don't you forget it."

Benny looked down on her bloodied and broken body. There was no way she would make it more than a couple of minutes. Maria weighed heavily in his hand. He'd lost a lot of sleep the last time he'd put her down, and she'd provided the means of his escape. Well hell, after the 18 carat show she put on, she deserved a little sliver of opportunity.

"Heads you win, tails you lose doll. Them's the breaks."

He pulled out the platinum chip, tossing it into the air. Pulling it from the air and flattening it against the back of his hand, Benny paused to reflect. He smiled to himself as he pocketed the platinum chip, not bothering to look at the result. Luck was for losers.

Benny activated the stealth boy and crept from the tent. Chance indeed.

_The game was rigged from the start._

* * *

**A/N:** I rewrote the ending to this a few times, trying to achieve something that wasn't too depressing (let's just say I was drawing parallels with the All Roads graphic novel for a reason). Hope it wasn't too much of a cop-out.


End file.
